


Behind the Mask

by orphan_account



Category: Iced Earth (Band), V for Vendetta (Comic)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 08:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12503692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The fourth incarnation of V has succeeded in, once again, toppling Norsefire's regime, but as he confronts the new leader, he discovers an ancient secret that will forever change his agenda.





	1. The New Land of Do-As-You-Please

The smell of burning metal and gasoline filled the night air. Smoke drifted through the chaotic streets, floating ghost-like over the heads of rioters who were howling and destroying with glee. The bodies of dead soldiers and civilians were to be found all over he place: on the sidewalks, in the alleys, in the police stations, in the prison yards, everywhere! Blood soaked the roads, turning the bleak asphalt into a ghastly yet glorious shade of lustrous crimson. The distant sound of explosions could be heard as the revelers took military-grade explosives to the city walls. Plumes of fire could be seen rising in the distance, accompanied by the cacophony of tumbling concrete and steel as the long standing walls of this prison-state fell. Littering the road, mixed with the detritus of war and riots, were a number of micro-chip radio monitors which were still caked in fresh blood and flesh. No doubt many of the rebels have grown tired of the itch of those accursed devises and ripped them right out of their necks, regardless of the pain it surely brought them. The buildings had all once looked the same; big cement squares with bared windows and heavy iron doors guarded by armed marshals, but now they were all crumbling and burning; their walls covered with colorful images and words of freedom and anarchy. Among the graffiti, V could see his own sigil, crudely drawn along the walls in red paint. V smiled behind his mask, taking in the sweet sounds and aromas of anarchy; anarchy that he had instigated!

What was this? What had once stood in the place of this anarchy? 

It was the year 2032, but V hardly cared. Time had become meaningless to him over thirty years ago, during the original rein of Norsefire in England. Was V really that old? Maybe. Symbolically speaking, he was there and he did start the rebellion that brought Adam Susan and his whole party to their knees, but the wicked, nameless man behind the heavily scarred Guy Fawkes mask wasn't. He remembered seeing "Lady Justice" blown to bits one night in 1997 and he remembered that he was but a young bystander then, who happened to look out his window just in time to see the hypocritical statue fall to the ground in fire. He had no idea what happened then—why, it was probably just a fluke, right—but now, the man who only goes by the alias V knows who really brought that statue down. It was V! The original V! This he didn't learn until he was seventeen, but indeed, the original V had set off a spark of resistance in the boy. Now here he was, with the legendary mask of V shielding his long forgotten face, basking in the destruction of revolution! 

You see, V is but a mortal man and that mortal man will inevitably die, but the idea of freedom will (and must) live on. So V was metaphorically brought back to life as a living symbol when someone had donned the mask and cape and dared to call himself (or herself, whichever) V. From then on it was an ongoing lineage that would surely stretch on until humanities inevitable extinction. The current V, the one who had just destroyed the New Norsefire regime, was the fourth of that lineage and already he had plans to pass the mask down to another burning heart who, for now, went by the name Derrick Ashton. They will celebrate this victory, of course, along with the thousands of other people who helped to make this rebellion possible, but for now V was hellbent on getting his hands around the neck of the one who called himself "Lord Seth A. Creedy", who was the current leader of the Norsefire party and the (former) chief oppressor of the people of the world. 

Directly ahead, illuminated only by the dancing flames of the streets, was the capital tower of this broken down dystopia. It stood steeple-like over the surrounding buildings and walls and was considerably more ornate than the bland concrete blocks of the surrounding city. At the top of the tower was the flagpole, which, to V's disgust, was still flying Norsefire's colors. The tower was supported by a multitude of pillars and was intricately carved with several odd designs, most notably the curious little shield that hung directly above the strikingly huge french doors. It closely resembled a three-armed wheel, but V couldn't help but feel it somehow represented a rose of some sorts. It was a mystery, but there was another curiosity concerning the regime that V believed he was close to solving. 

As he neared the capital tower, he happened to pass a dying politician, lying in a immense pool of his own blood which was slowly draining out of a gunshot wound in his abdomen. Half his face and one of his arms had been scorched off, making it evident that he had been stricken by a grenade. He happened to know the name of this this one: George Spencer. He was amongst Seth's council of thirteen men. He wasn't anything special nor dangerous. Really, the only reason George or the council existed was to kiss Seth's ass. They were puppets and nothing more, yet something about the dying politician peaked V's interest. He had no idea what it was, but there was a particularly…inhuman quality about him. V didn't mean that the man was so depraved that he had lost the right to be called human; he meant that he was literally inhuman. The blood was red, the skin was tan, the hair was black, the eyes were blue, and the overall shape was that of any human. He seemed just as normal as any other guy, yet there was some subtle detail about the man that just wasn't right. 

It only took a minute for V to give up his investigation and proceed to the tower, but one last thing had stuck him as he walked away. When he turned his gaze from the body, he caught something very interesting, something that he could only see through his peripheral vision: The man's ears were actually pointed.


	2. The Wicked One

The corridors in the capital tower were silent. In heavy contrast with the chaos outside, the interior of this admirable abode was very clean and orderly. The decadent furniture and portraits of past Norsefire figureheads (including Adam Susan himself) sat very straight and presentable in their places. The antique oil lamps along the walls still burned with a ghostly blue light. The doors were shut and unscathed and the drapes were still closed and wrinkle-less, concealing the madness outside. There was no one to be found; no politicians nor soldiers nor anyone who considers themselves in league with Norsefire. (For some reason, V felt the urge to question whether Norsefire was really what he believed it to be or not). 

After climbing twenty-something stories without incident, V stood before the doors leading to Seth's office. Again, the odd rose symbol hung above the door like a protective talisman. Curious as the sign was, V had other things to tend to, so he decided not to waste anymore time. V took a deep breath, listening for any signs of activity behind the door. He heard nothing. If Seth was in there, he was either dead already or being unnaturally quiet. He fully expected the coward to be surrounded by a myriad of flunkies, ready to kill anyone the moment they stepped through the door. V knew that he would probably die, but that didn't matter. There were several thousand people out there ready to carry on the ideas of personal freedom. One man dying doesn't matter in the grand scale of things, for V's blood has been spilled three times now and yet V still lives. 

"Remember the idea, not the man."

Without warning, V gracefully entered Seth's office, the door quietly giving way to his intrusion. Looking through the tiny slits if his mask, his eyes fell in his target, who calmly sat behind his desk with his hands clasped before him, just as he had appeared in all the "news" programs. The firelight from outside came in through the large window behind him, casting the whole room in a dim, flickering glow. Seth's emotionless eyes shifted in V's direction, yet refused to say anything. He looked surprisingly professional despite the fact that his whole empire had just crumbled before him. 

There was a lasting silence between them before V decided to end it. 

"You know why I'm here, right?" V growled. His hand rested on the hilt of one of his knives. The grin on his mask now seemed more deadly than ever. 

"Indeed." Seth whispered. His voice was like that of a king. "I understand that you have won and that you intend on killing me. You've destroyed my entire nation, killed my council, overrode my controls,…" he paused, giving V a knowing, hateful glance. "Seen past the veil. You know don't you?" 

V didn't immediately answer. He pretended to casually look around the room, catching Seth in his side-vision. Unlike the dead politician, he couldn't see any inhuman traits in the tyrant, but he could still sense his unnatural qualities. As he continued to look around, he noticed a gold scepter in the corner half hidden in the shadows. It somewhat resembled an Egyptian ankh, but with some very noticeable differences. 

"I believe I do." V answered. "I don't think you are who you say you are, Mr. Creedy. Or is that even your real name?" 

"You're smart, V." Seth stood and slowly strode from behind his desk. He stood face to face V, eying the mask in contempt. With a sneer he asked "Do you believe in God?" 

"In a peculiar sense. I will not elaborate, but yes I do." 

"Good, because I believe in him too. But I think the key difference between us is that I believe in a God that would not tolerate the existence of a vile species like humanity. He tried to kill you all once with a flood, yet, like roaches, you all lived. And you humans are so arrogant as too believe that that God actually loves you because you all believe your the pinnacle of creation!" 

V scoffed. "You talk like you're not one of us. I might be the only one capable of saying this, and damn me for it, but I've accepted the fact that God created an oppressive universe in which mankind is small and meaningless." V smirked even though he knew "Seth" couldn't see it. "I also believe that God is dead in some sense. So I'm going to ask this once: who or what are you?" 

Seth's brows furrowed. "We are God's children and the rightful owners of this planet. We are the all-knowing and the all-powerful. We are known as the Setians and we lived on the surface in peace before…" his scowl steepened. "…before the human race came." 

"Came?" V asked. "From where?" 

"I don't know and frankly I don't care. We only know that mankind came from the stars in the ancient past and nearly exterminated my people. We narrowly survived by just ten-thousand." 

V could hardly believe what he was hearing. There was more to this puzzle than V could have guessed; already, V had just learned where man had came from, yet there was more to know. "I figured humanity would have records of us coming from space." V insinuated. 

"You wouldn't have. We wiped out your ancestors' memory with a clouding spell in retaliation." It was at this point that Seth did something that made a true believer out of V. Right before his eyes, the former tyrant actually changed form and became something that V could only describe as some kind of Egyptian reptilian monster. It's skin was apparently scaly and brownish-gray, and its eyes glowed with the very fires of hell above a lipless, grinning mouth filled with sharpened teeth. Other than the aged, satin bandages that wrapped most of its torso, it was attired in a tattered cape and kilt which was the same, bleak hue as ash. It had a Pharaohs beard and a crown-like, golden headdress on its brow, adorned with a figure of a cobra, leering with almost as much hated as the creature it decorated. 

V was nearly petrified with fear, although he refused to let the thing know it. He kept his composure and unsheathed his knifes, keeping his gaze on the creatures mad glare. 

"Do you believe human?" The thing hissed in a deep voice. It gestured towards the corner in which the ankh-like staff was seated, and V watched as the scepter flew across the room at a dizzying speed and landed perfectly in the creatures clawed fingers. It then poised the scepter in a battle stance, pointing the bladed end at V's throat. 

V had never fought anything other than mere humans, armed mostly with automatic rifles and bullet-proof armor—and he never considered fighting anything more—but this was something wholly different. This thing was, for lack of a better term, a demon, armed with what V could only guess was to be magic. It was godlike and radiated an ancient sense of hatred and malice. V took a step back and watched as "Seth's" gnarly grin widened. "What are you?!" V roared. 

The thing cackled, but kept its glowing eyes on V. "I have been called many things, human. Mankind has known me as the antichrist, but I have been know to my people as the King of the Fallen, the Wrath of God, the Harbinger of Fate, the Wicked One, the Astral Beast. But my name, my true name, is Set Abominae, the only salvation for the Setian race, my people!" 

"Salvation?" V asked. "What threat do think humanity poses against you?" 

Set cackled again, after which he continued. "Fool. You think you're so wise. Humanity has remained a constant threat to not only the Earth, but themselves. Genocide against their own brothers is frequent, and extinction of "lesser" species is far more common! Humanity is violent and prejudice. They would surely exterminate my people again, given the chance. I've dedicated my existence to driving humanity to end theirs; manipulating your leaders and prophets into furthering mankind into division and starting war after war, slowly killing your kind! But in these present days, "Human Suicide" just isn't enough. I've felt the need to imprison you all in these totalitarian states to assure you can do no more damage to the world or universe outside, meanwhile you still continue to kill yourselves, hastening out plans. We've been spurring you all this whole time." He paused with another disturbing chuckle. "It really is fun to watch you all die." 

"Then the nuclear holocaust of 1988…" V gasped.

Set slowly shook his head, his wicked grin turned into a vicious scowl. "No. That was caused entirely by humans. If fact, we tried to stop it; we were sure the nuclear fallout would greatly damage Mother Earth, and we were right. It was just one more reason why we had to lock up humanity." 

"You've kept yourselves secret this whole time..." V continued. 

"Indeed. The funniest part about fucking with humanity is that humanity had no idea at all that they were being fucked with! But now you know, V, and surely you will let the others know." Set's grin returned. 

"Of course I will. All of mankind will know of your crimes, and you will pay for them!" 

"Do not lecture me about crimes!" Seth growled. "This is merely payback for what your ancestors did to us. Eye for eye. Tooth for tooth. Blood for blood! Surely a bloodthirsty individual like yourself will understand." 

V did understand, but the new generation has no right to suffer for what their space-faring ancestors did. He stood firm with his people, much like Set Abominae stood firm with his. "I'll give you war before I give you pity." V threatened. 

"Then give us war!" Set shouted. "It will not matter soon, for I am finished manipulating mankind! I gave you all one chance to redeem yourselves and you nearly destroyed the planet! I will not tolerate another decade of humanities existence!" Here, Set began to back down. He lowered his scepter and took a few cautious steps backward, eyeing V with unmeasurable contempt. He then leveled a single finger in V's direction. "Be warned: the Plagues of Babylon are coming, and they will be man's undoing." With that, Set simply vanished. His physical form seeming to fade and disperse like smoke in the wind. 

All this time, V thought he had won, but V could see now that there is another enemy, one that hides like cowards behind the mask of human tyrants. Hitler, Hussein, Susan; they were all just puppets to V's real nemesis. If the Plagues are coming, as Set has promised, then V must be ready. He will not allow humanity to die, even if it is over their own folly. A new war has begun and V swore then and there to do everything in his power to eradicate Set before he could eradicate mankind. 

Soon, one race or the other will die…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't know, Iced Earth is a metal band that created an ongoing storyline called "The Something Wicked Saga". Set Abominae, in addition to being the bands mascot, is the protagonist of said storyline.


End file.
